anti-electricity crawls through my veins, slow as molasses and just as suffocating. push the worms for fingers under scalding water or force them to feel something with crushing pressure, as long as the only sensation you feel is your pounding heartbeat and not whatever that sickly zing in your blue twizzlers are.

funny how, after all this time, the proof that you’re alive is comforting. if only the gaggle of muscles could push a lil harder, keep my fingers functional with oxygen and warmth but i guess that’s asking for too much.

for someone who always used to give and only got more taken away, it should be no surprise that my body learned those tricks to play as soon as i refused to bend to outsiders.

it is alarming, but not enough to do much about, that my head is heavy to hold up and that my fingers beg to stop moving, beg to stop holding up the phone. it seems that every aspect of me was created to betray me, as if even the cells making up my organs have it out to get me, even the atoms making up my existence know i’m unlovable and need to show it, to me at the very least; we all know i have no problem carrying that action along whether i want to or not, what with it being an integral unavoidable part of my nature and everything.